Stealing Thunder
by tarheelveteran
Summary: Rick steals Horatio's big chance to ride in an F-14 fighter jet. Harm and Mac make sure it's a ride Rick and the crime lab will never forget. Dedicated to our brave troops and their brave families
1. Calling in Favors

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of CSI Miami, JAG, or any of their intellectual properties. I own only my OC. Please don't sue me; my lawyer's in jail. **

**A/N: I originally wrote this story three years ago and had to make some major, major changes before reposting. My readers requested one major change be made to the story, and that's included in this version. My goal is to get this completely up in time for Memorial Day. Although I'm American, I'd like to dedicate this story to all military who have fought and died for their countries. I'd also thank the families who have stood by their soldiers and endured the hardships thereof. **

**When I wrote this story the first time, I was using my OC Emmie Stockburne as a focal point before I was able to write the characters without an OC. Hard as I've tried to rewrite this story without my OC, it just doesn't seem to be the same. Enjoy! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 1-Calling In Favors<strong>

Horatio stepped into the Miami-Dade computer lab to retrieve some files. Computer techs Emmie Stockburne and Tyler Jensen could tell that he was upset about something. His lips were tight and his eyes narrowed.

"Hey, Sir. You okay?" Emmie wanted to know. "You don't look too happy for someone who's going up in a fighter plane this weekend."

He met their eyes. "I _was_ going to go up in a fighter plane. Until Stetler decided to pull some favors with the County. Now he's going up instead."

"What?" Emmie folded her arms and scowled. "That stinks! Tyler was all set to get footage of you! We were gonna make a video of you getting ready and show it to the whole department!"

Horatio put up his hand. "That's okay, Miss Stockburne. You and Tyler capture Rick in his big moment. It's for the MDPD, not for me." There was no hiding the fact that Horatio was disappointed, though.

The United States Navy was collaborating with the Miami-Dade Police and Homestead Air Force Base to stage the Salute to the Heroes Memorial Day Air Show in South Florida that weekend. Emmie Stockburne knew some high-ranking officials in the Department of the Navy who could arrange a special flight for one Miami-Dade police officer over the Atlantic Ocean in an F-14 Tomcat fighter jet. The Navy was more than happy to do this as a good will gesture . No doubt that Horatio would be the best choice for this honor, everyone agreed. But it seemed like the natural course of things for IAB agent Rick Stetler to try to steal the spotlight, especially when it involved his rival.

"They gonna let Stetler get away with that?" Tyler asked, also upset by what happened.

Emmie furiously clicked her keyboard, also upset by the turn of events. "You know, Tyler, I've been thinking. We can't do anything about Rick going up instead of Horatio." She then paused and a smile crossed her face.

"But we can certainly help make it memorable, can't we?"

"You're scaring me. What did you have in mind?"

"Have your camera ready for that day. Capture Rick getting outfitted for his flight. Make sure you get everything in detail. Make him look like something out of Top Gun." She turned to him and framed her face with her hands. "And above all, make sure the Navy has that cockpit camera, complete with sound recorder."

"And what are you gonna do?"

She smiled and picked up her phone. "I'm gonna make some calls."

* * *

><p>Commander Harmon Rabb still had his eyes on the 1100 pretrial when his phone buzzed.<p>

"Commander Rabb."

"Harm, you crooked lawyer! It's Emmie Stockburne, your old Quantico liaison! How are you?"

A huge smile crossed his face. "Agent Stockburne! How long's it been?"

"Long, long time. Hey Harm, I was hoping you could do me a huge favor. A little birdie told me you're in charge of rostering the F-14 stunt pilots for the air show here in Homestead this weekend. That true?"

"Yeah. A lot of pilots got sent to Iraq, so A.J. asked me to be in charge of it. You gonna be there when your boss goes up in the Tomcat?"

She hesitated. "Uh well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You know politics."

Harm smirked. "Don't forget, I still live in Washington."

"Well, anyway, it ends up our Internal Affairs agent Rick Stetler pulled some maneuvers, and Lieutenant Caine got pushed out of the spot. So it ends up Sergeant Stetler's going up, and not my boss."

"I see. So what can I do?"

"Well, since you're the one who rosters the pilots, I was just thinking. Since Sergeant Stetler really wants to be in the limelight that day, maybe you can make it something he'll remember. You see, he's never been in a fighter plane and thinks it's just like a rollercoaster ride. Do you have a pilot who will make this, uh, you know, memorable for him, if you know what I mean."

The JAG officer smiled and nodded. "Let me see what I can do. Emmie, I see you're still twisted and evil."

"Harm, you're just saying that because it's true. Thanks. This really means a lot to me. Tell everybody I said hello." With that she clicked off the phone.

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><p>Emmie sat with Horatio in his office as Commander Rabb called. "Hold on, Harm. Putting you on speaker." She clicked the speaker button while Horatio closed his door, away from curious ears.<p>

"Emmie? Lieutenant Caine? Sorry to keep you waiting. I think I can help Sergeant Stetler with his glory ride. We got a guy here who just came back from Iraq. He used to fly with the Blue Angels, so you know he knows some good maneuvers. But he's a little crazy. I used to be a fighter pilot myself, and this guy scares even me."

"Sounds good so far, Commander" Horatio said, starting to feel better.

"What's his name?" Emmie wanted to know.

"He's Lieutenant Gill Marshall. Call sign Widowmaker."

Horatio smiled. "With a name like that I like him already."

"I need to warn you, Lieutenant. Like I said, Widowmaker's a nut case, even for a fighter pilot. Guy knows every stunt and dogfighting maneuver in the book, and I think he even made up some. My colleagues saw him do a negative 2-G dive over the Persian Gulf. We didn't think he'd recover. Must have missed the water by inches. Now a negative-2G is twice the speed of a freefall. I think Widowmaker would be glad to give Sergeant Stetler a day to remember."

Emmie laughed. "Not_ just_ Rick Stetler. Anyone else coming with you?"

"Mac's coming down."

"Looking forward to this?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. You just have Sergeant Stetler report to the main office at Homestead, 0900, and we'll take care of the rest."

"Oh, uh, Harm? Just tell Widowmaker not to give him a heart attack, okay? I don't think you want another investigation on your hands."

Commander Rabb laughed. "Can't guarantee that. Don't worry, we'll handle it."

"Thank you, Commander Rabb. See you Saturday morning." With that Horatio clicked off the speaker.


	2. Meet Widowmaker

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Department of Defense stickers are colored as follows: Enlisted is red. Officer is blue. A gate guard is required to salute any vehicle that bears a blue Officer's sticker.  
>Enlisted are required to salute officers, and junior officers are required to salute senior officers.<br>A "Herky Bird" is slang for the C-130 Hercules. They are the gray planes with propellers. They're also known as "Herky Jerks" because the ride is jerky, loud, and overall uncomfortable. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 2-Meet Widowmaker<strong>

Emmie drove her white Chevy Blazer up to the Homestead Air Force Base check point. Rick sat importantly in the front seat while Tyler rode in the back with the computer lab's photography equipment ready to go.

She waited for the gate guards to check identification and then to check Rick and Tyler against the list of VIPs. Satisfied, the young uniformed Air Force security guard handed her back their ID cards.

"Here you go Sir. Tyler" Rick snatched his identification back. As they pulled through the gate the guard stood at attention and saluted. Emmie held up her hand in acknowledgement. As an officer's widow, she never felt right to salute back.

Rick turned around to watch the gate. "He must've known who I was to salute me like that."

Emmie snorted. "They saluted my sticker. I'm the widow of a Lieutenant Commander. That gate guard doesn't know you from Adam. The only reason I'm driving you is because I have the military sticker."

"Do you know where you're going, Emmie? I don't want to be late."

She sighed. "I shop here once a month. I think it's safe to say I know my way around."

The Blazer pulled up to the main aviation office where Harm and Mac sipped coffee and chatted while they stood outside the main entrance. She stepped out of her Blazer and immediately walked up the steps to hug her old friends. "Harm! Mac! God, it's great to see you again! How was your trip down here?"

"Emmie Stockburne? I see you're still playing with computers" Mac said. She motioned toward Rick as he stepped out, never offering to help Tyler who struggled with the camera equipment. "So is this our guest of honor?" she noted as Harm shook hands with Rick and Tyler.

"How was your ride out from DC?"

Mack pointed toward the airfield. "First class on the Herky Bird" she said with a grin.

Rick's and Tyler's eyes widened as they gazed at the row of shiny F14 Tomcats. Off further in the distance sat an array of helicopters and cargo planes, all ready to be viewed by the public.

"This is Sergeant Stetler. He's our Internal Affairs agent. He'll be going up with, uh, Widowmaker. Tyler Jensen is the department's AV expert. He's here to get pictures."

Rick blinked. "Widowmaker?"

Harm smiled. "Relax. It's just his call sign. Well Sergeant—"

"Call me Rick."

"Uh, Rick, if you'll follow me you're gonna have to get checked out for your preflight screening."

"I'm sure everything will be all right."

"Tyler, you get to go with them. Somebody gets to preserve this for the department" Emmie said with a slight grin. Apparently Rick had no idea what he would be up against.

Tyler looked at her reproachfully. "Why me?"

"I'm not allowed in the men's locker room. And even if I was, well, there are some things I just don't want to know."

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><p>Tyler held the video camera just feet away from Rick, who now had a totally different attitude. He was tired, humiliated, and snappish. It didn't help matters any that he was now wearing only his boxers and being poked and prodded by a flight surgeon. He glared at Tyler. "Having fun, Tyler?" he growled.<p>

The AV tech looked at him dryly. "Not really."

The Navy flight surgeon, a paunchy, middle-aged Commander in his Air Force blues, his hair graying, measured Rick's blood pressure and then listened to his heart and breathing.

"I'm not enlisting for flight school" Rick said impatiently.

"No, but we have to make sure you're not gonna have a heart attack or pass out up there" the doctor said firmly. "It makes us look bad. You're Internal Affairs, so you should know all about that."

Tyler was sure to get Rick's horrified expression as the flight surgeon measured his arms and legs with a tape measure. "What's this for?"

"We have to see how big a flight suit you'll wear, how much oxygen, and how you'll fit into the cockpit. No room for error."

Rick now stared daggers at Tyler. "Are you gonna get _everything_ on tape?"

"Hey, I stepped out of the room when he told you to cough, didn't I?"

Emmie stood outside of the front entrance with Harm and Mac, occasionally stepping back every time an enlisted officer saluted them.

* * *

><p>Just then a huge man in a blue Navy flight suit stepped out of the building. His jet black hair was almost completely shaven off. He had steely gray eyes and looked like he could have picked up one of those fighter jets with one arm. His skin was red and his features were certainly battle-hardened. He strode confidently out to the step, stood smartly at attention, and saluted Mac, who promptly saluted him back. He then leaned back on the railing and glanced around, totally unimpressed by his surroundings. "Morning Ma'am. All ready for the air show this afternoon?" he asked.<p>

Mac motioned toward Emmie. "Emmie? Meet Lieutenant Marshall. Call sign Widowmaker" Mac said proudly. "He'll be flying Rick this afternoon."

The burly Lieutenant raised his eyebrows and shook hands with her. "Ma'am."

Emmie's eyes widened from his viselike grip. "Nice to meet you, Lieutenant."

"Likewise."

"Lieutenant Marshall, Emmie brought Sergeant Stetler up here. He's getting his preflight screening right now. He's the police officer who's gonna be riding with you this afternoon."

The Lieutenant raised one eyebrow and motioned back toward the building with his eyes. "Oh yeah. Saw him. Tall skinny guy who looks like Chewbacca? He's not scoring any points with the med staff, I can tell you."

Emmie snorted. "I work for the guy, Sir. I know what you're talking about."

Widowmaker smirked. "Internal Affairs. Figures. I'd tell you what I think, but you look like a nice lady."

Emmie giggled. "I've probably heard it already. So Widowmaker, you think you can take the sergeant on the ride of his life?"

Widowmaker folded his arms and smiled slyly. "Yeah. Harm told me what was going on. It'll be my pleasure. Don't worry. You guys'll love it."

"Think you can do it without killing him?"

The burly pilot narrowed his eyes at the door. "Long as he doesn't puke in my jet, I won't eject him over the Atlantic. Deal?'

She smiled. "Deal."


	3. Finally Cool

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3-Finally Cool<strong>

Horatio, Frank, Delko, Calleigh, Natalia, Ryan, and the staff at the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, as well as any Miami-Dade police officers, enjoyed front row seats in the shaded bleachers at the Homestead Airfield. The overhead shade in the VIP section was certainly welcome in the stifling Memorial Day sun.

Emmie stood in the doorway of the hangar and chatted with Mac when they noticed Harm escorting a very proud but worked-over Rick Stetler to the doorway. Admittedly he cut a striking figure in the dark green flight suit, complete with Navy aviation patch on his left shoulder, carrying the personalized red-and-white flight helmet that the Navy had designed for this occasion. As soon as Rick saw Emmie and Mac, that smile of his reappeared.

"Ladies" he said, very proud of himself once again, knowing full well he had their attention.

"Sergeant Stetler. Well, you look like you're ready for this" Mac observed with a smile.

Emmie shrugged and also smiled. "Well Sir, much as I hate to admit, I almost feel like I should salute you. You look fantastic."

Harm leaned over to Mac and Emmie. "The sergeant almost didn't survive the preflight physical" he whispered. "I thought the doctor was gonna kill him first."

Out on the airfield a voice boomed over the public address system.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Can we have your attention, please. The United States Navy and Air Force, in a gesture of good will to the Miami-Dade Police Department have chosen one police officer to fly on one of the Navy's world-famous F14 Tomcat fighter jets. The F14 Tomcat is the U.S. Navy's superior jet fighter and is capable of traveling at 7G's at Mach 2. I'd like to remind you that '7G' is seven times the speed of a freefall, while Mach 2 is equal to twice the speed of sound. As a tribute to Miami's Finest we have one F14 that will be flown by Lieutenant Gill Marshall. Lieutenant Marshall has done two combat tours in the Persian Gulf and has also flown with the Blue Angels."

A hush fell over the crowd as a freshly-shined, freshly painted F14 slowly taxied up the runway close to the grandstand, closer to the main building, afterburners glowing on each side. The cockpit hatch slowly opened. On each side of the cockpit seating, _Widowmaker_ and _Sergeant Stetler_ had been stenciled on the front and back, respectively.

Rick stood proudly in the doorway next to Harm fingering the collar of his green flight suit and carrying the red and white flight helmet that said _Rick_ on the front. This was it. This was going to be his defining moment. Never again was anyone in that lab going to make fun of him. He was finally cool now. He was going to ride with the big boys this time. Horatio would have to respect him now. Even Emmie noticed him this time. He knew she still had that thing for a man in uniform.

"Ready to do this, Sergeant?" Harm said with a smile, patting the IAB agent on the back.

"I was born ready" Rick assured him with that confident grin of his. "Let's go."

"Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to direct your attention to our honored police officer of the day, Sergeant Rick Stetler" the announcer said. "Now, walking out with Navy Commander Harmon Rabb, please Sergeant Stetler a heroes' welcome!"

There was a quite applause as the tall, skinny figure in a dark green flight suit accompanied the figure in Navy whites through the rippling air, across the hot pavement towards the fighter jet. As he passed the front of the VIP stand, Rick couldn't help but look at Horatio with a proud smile as he continued his walk of fame. Tyler stood by, well away from the engines, videotaping the entire experience in the rippling heat.

Miami news reporter Erica Sykes eagerly walked beside Rick and Harm on the black tarmac, camera crew in tow, trying to be the first to capture the County's shining moment, repeatedly elbowing Tyler out of the way.

"Hey!"

"Move, lab rat!" she snapped. "Find your own story!"

Satisfied that she was in a good position, Erica Sykes turned toward the camera. "Okay. Roll tape."

"This is CVS news reporter Erica Sykes, and I'm here at the Homestead Airfield. Coming out now is Commander Harmon Rabb with the United States Navy as he gets to escort Sergeant Stetler with the Miami-Dade Internal Affairs Office." She sidled up to Harm as the news camera followed her. "Sergeant, this has to be a very proud day for you and the Miami-Dade Police Department. Do you have anything to say to our audience at CVS before you go up?"

Rick proudly fingered the collar of his flight suit again as he smiled. "Well, I hate to brag. But something like this has been a long time in coming for me and for the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. And make sure you get a good shot of us taking off, okay?" Harm guided him a little more forcefully toward the waiting fighter.

Erica Sykes just stared at him before she turned back to the camera. "We're here live as Sergeant Stetler makes his way up into the F14 Tomcat. Looks like they'll be taking off in just a minute after Sergeant Stetler gets strapped in."

As he went up the ladder and into his seat in the cockpit, the IAB agent's energy rose as visions of Top Gun went through his mind. Two green-suited members of the flight crew strapped him in securely, attached his breathing apparatus and secured his personalized helmet.

"Wow, these seats are comfortable" he said through his helmet as the flight crew finished making sure everything was on him properly.

"Can you hear me okay, Sergeant?" Widowmaker said in a normal voice over his radio speaker. "If you can, just give me the thumbs-up."

He responded by putting up his left gloved thumb. Finally cool.

"Just one thing, Sergeant. You'll find a couple of plastic bags on the seat next to you. If you feel like you're gonna puke, just grab one, open your helmet and let it fly. Try not to puke in your air mask, because if you do, you'll suffocate. I don't want to have to come back early. And whatever you do, don't puke in my jet, okay?" Widowmaker said nonchalantly over the radio.

Rick sniffed. "I can handle this. I used to love rollercoasters when I was a kid. Never got sick on one."

A maniacal grin crossed Widowmaker's face. "Well then, you're gonna love this even more."

Adrenaline shot through Rick as the cockpit hatch slowly closed over his head. The only noise was Widowmaker's voice on the radio.

"Give them the thumbs-up to let them know you're ready, Sergeant" the weathered pilot instructed.

Though he knew nobody could see his face, Rick smiled as he gave a thumbs-up. Tyler snapped his picture while Erica Sykes kept trying to crowd him out, the better for her TV news glory.

Adrenaline shot through Rick now. He couldn't help but freeze as the jet's engines roared to life, causing his teeth to vibrate.

"Are you ready Sergeant?" Widowmaker nearly hollered, his voice sounding almost maniacal at this point.

"Let's go!" Rick said confidently. "Show me what you can do!"

The F14's engines crescendoed to a deafening roar as the jets burned white hot, the air rippling furiously behind them. As the traffic controller ducked down and dropped the flag, giving the signal for takeoff, the jet shot forward on the runway at a blinding and deafening pitch, shaking the ground as Widowmaker pulled back on the accelerator, flying down the runway, into the air, and out of sight within seconds.

"How do you think he'll stand up against Widowmaker?" Mac asked Emmie.

The computer tech grinned. "I just hope Tyler remembered that cockpit recorder."


	4. Earning His Wings

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Thanks and a shout-out to DerekMorgansGirlForver for the reviews.  
>This chapter is based on Bill Engvall's "15 Degrees Off Cool."<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 4-Earning His Wings<strong>

Rick's proud resolve shattered in a split second as the screaming jet slammed him back against the comfortable seat. The force of the takeoff pinned him down and rendered him barely able to breathe. The world flew past him in a blur and then disappeared in an instant as Widowmaker executed a steep combat takeoff.

No sooner did he see nothing but blue sky and Widowmaker's swaying helmet than did Rick feel his whole world bank to the left and then into a shrill barrel roll over the Atlantic Ocean. He couldn't hear himself scream. He was sure his insides were probably still on the runway of Homestead Air Force Base. His eyes were likely in the back of his skull by now.

Worse than that, Widowmaker seemed to have a Jekyll-and-Hyde personality and, once that fighter jet had gone airborne, he went from nonchalant, weathered pilot to homicidal lunatic, Rick thought. The battle-hardened pilot seemed obsessed with pushing that aircraft to its absolute limits, determined to suffocate him, strangle him, squash him like a bug in the name of personal amusement.

"How you doing back there, Sergeant? I didn't scare you, did I?" Widowmaker asked with a smile in his voice.

The IAB agent had completely forgotten all his glory and, now that he caught his breath, unleashed a torrent of profanity into the radio about Widowmaker, his intelligence level, and flying in general.

"Great. Sounds like you're okay back there" he answered when his passenger finally stopped cursing. "We're over the Atlantic right now, about fifteen miles off the coast. I'll do an inverted dive so you can get a good look."

Immediately Rick felt his insides flattened yet again as the jet flipped and plummeted, screaming louder than he did as all he could see was water that seemed to come ever closer by the second. At the last possible moment he saw nothing but blue ocean for what seemed mere feet under his head outside of the cockpit before Widowmaker rolled the jet over again.

"Beautiful, ain't it? I'm gonna take us back up again. Hey, we're getting a little too close to Cuban air space. The Brass doesn't like that too much. Hang on."

Yet again Rick felt his face compressed against the seat as the jet shrieked upward again while Widowmaker eased back on the accelerator. He could see nothing but blue sky ahead of him.

"Just like a rollercoaster, huh Seargeant? How about I show you some combat maneuvers. You up to this?"

"Uh, that's okay…." Rick said in a trembling voice. He could feel his stomach tighten. "I feel sick."

"Oh hey, grab one of those bags by your leg. Don't worry, almost everybody pukes their first time. You're not used to this. Hey, I once had this Senator in the back, a real Momma's Boy. Got him in a couple of negative-G dives, and he was puking like a maniac! God, I love this job! Hang on!"

Widowmaker then let out an adrenaline-induced howl over the radio as he executed a Split-S maneuver and banked around into a spiraling Thatch Weave. At that point it was hard to tell what screamed louder—the jet engine, the pilot, or its weak, quaking, terrified passenger. He then laughed. "Used that one to dodge a couple of Stingrays in the Gulf a few years ago. Works great!"

Rick caught his breath and began to regain his orientation. He finally had to admit that, on a deeper level, he really enjoyed the adrenaline rush and the power of the screaming jets every time Widowmaker took him on a steep climb.

"I'm gonna buzz that cruise ship down there!" Widowmaker said with a smile in his voice.

"Is that legal?" Rick said weakly.

"I don't know, but it's sure as hell fun!"

Before Rick could render an objection, he found himself once more plastered head to toe to the seat, plummeting toward a cruise ship, yanked up again, joining in a chorus of screams.

"Okay Sergeant, now I'm gonna take you in a 5G climb for thirty seconds. You ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" he said with a trembling voice.

"You can do it. You're gonna feel really heavy. You gotta breathe. "Here we go."

Rick thought he had been flattened against the seat before, but now the pressure of the climb paralyzed him all the more. Breathing had never been such a chore. Widowmaker now strangely took on the role of concerned, coaching leader as he told his passenger to breathe in and breathe out every second over the screaming jets. Widowmaker called off times and told him to keep breathing. Rick tightly closed his eyes and had no choice but to push breath in and out against the force of gravity.

_I wonder if this qualifies as being killed in the line of duty. I'm sorry for what I did to Yelina. If I get out of this alive, I'll be nice to Horatio. The last minutes of my life are stuck with this nut who keeps talking about puking. Maybe I should've let Horatio do this instead. I gotta get to a bathroom!_

After what seemed a lifetime, he felt himself breathe more easily as the jet leveled off.

"That's it, Sergeant. You did it! That was a 5G climb for thirty seconds! Only a handful of fighter pilots have ever done that. Surprise you how many of them chicken out."

The IAB agent could only breathe a sigh of relief as the fighter jet slowed and came in for final approach to the Homestead Air Base runway. Those landing lights were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He took breaths as deep as he could hold and let them out. He was weak, trembling, sweating. He had a tightness in his chest, and his head pounded angrily.

Out on the broiling tarmac, Erica Sykes rushed forward to the stopped F14, repeatedly nudging Tyler out of the way. Tyler was sweating, tired, and getting frustrated by the minute. "Excuse me" she said to him curtly. "Just stay out of my way, okay?"

As the cockpit hatch opened, two flight crew attendants unstrapped Rick and picked him up by each arm. He was not ashamed to admit that he had trouble standing on his own by this time as they brought him down the ladder and pried his helmet off.

Erica positioned herself right by the wrung-out, quaking IAB agent. "This is Erica Sykes for CVS here in Miami, and Sergeant Rick Stetler has just returned from his historic flight with one of the Navy's best fighter pilots. You're gonna hear it first right here!" She then rushed up to the shaky, glazed-over sergeant, thrusting her microphone into his face. "Sergeant Stetler. All of Miami is watching. Tell us about the flight in your own words!"

He opened his mouth and hunched over slightly.

HUEAAAAAAH!

His lunch flew out of his mouth and sprayed her hair, jacket and microphone. Dripping, she shrieked and backed up, trying to shake herself off. All professionalism was lost.

Rick could barely stand up on his own strength and was not quite coherent enough to realize what he had done. The flight crew quickly took him by each arm and hustled him back to the hangar.

In a split second, Tyler, who had captured the entire event, dropped to his knees in fits of laughter. Erica whipped around and put up her hand over the lens. "Turn that damned camera off!" she nearly screamed. He knew from experience to obey her or suffer the consequences. Holding her dripping mike, she hunched her shoulders to conceal herself and hurried out of view.

As she quickly exited the tarmac, the crime lab stood up and applauded.

"I think this was even better" Ryan said to Horatio over the noise.

"I would agree, Mr. Wolfe."

Back in the hangar, Mac made no effort to keep her military bearing. "Tell me he didn't just throw up on that reporter!"

Emmie covered her mouth, fell against the wall and sunk to the concrete floor. After a few minutes she caught her breath. "He finally did something right!"


	5. Poetic Justice

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: When I originally posted this story, a lot of readers wanted Horatio to get his chance to go up in the F-14, which he didn't. Some of you may remember that I had that chapter in A Monste's Ball and had to pull it out because it wouldn't have made sense. Well, here it is. Better late than never. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 5—Poetic Justice<strong>

"How'd you pull this off, Harm?"

The JAG smiled slyly. "Somebody at SecNav owed me a favor."

"Who?"

"Classified. I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

From the shelter of the hangar, Harm and Mac watched the blazing tarmac, waiting for that big moment. "Besides, I think Memorial Day was more fitting."

Mac nodded. "You're right."

With a proud smile, Eric Delko escorted Horatio out to the entrance. "Hey. Tell Widowmaker he can bring out his ride now."

Horatio wore a standard blue flight suit with a plain helmet, not as flashy as Rick's was. But that was all right. Horatio smiled as he looked down at the blue suit and adjusted some straps around his waist. "These are kind of warm for Florida in May."

"That's okay, Lieutenant" Harm said with a grin. "Wait till you get up to forty-thousand feet."

While glancing at Delko, Horatio moved closer to them. "Commander Rabb? Commander McKenzie? How did you arrange this?"

"SecNav changed Widowmaker's flight plans. Ends up there's some bad turbulence between here and Washington, so he's flying back tomorrow. Besides, we had extra jet fuel left over for two flights. Now we have to burn it up or dump it in the ocean. When I told him what happened about you and Sergeant Stetler, Command made the decision. You're going up."

Mac motioned toward his plain helmet. "t's not as fancy as Sergeant Stetler's. Kind of last minute."

The redheaded lieutenant looked at the concrete floor and smiled. Gently he patted the helmet. "That's quite all right."

Slowly the silver Tomcat taxied up toward the grandstands and raised the cockpit shield.

"This is your cue, Lieutenant" Harm said, guiding him by the shoulder.

"You can do this, H" Delko said with that boyish grin.

Helmet under arm, Horatio donned his sunglasses before walking out across the tarmac. The heat could be felt rising from the concrete, and everything seemed to flutter. No matter, though. In his sight was that fighter jet.

Frank. Calleigh. Natalia. Frank. Ryan. Emmie. Tyler. Delko sat with them in the shaded grandstand. Delko sat directly behind Calleigh and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Better than Saturday, huh?"

"Yeah Not as much of a crowd. No TV cameras all over the place."

He looked at her with that boyish grin. "Yeah, except that means Horatio doesn't get to puke on Sykes."

"Or Stetler" Ryan chimed in.

No huge announcements. Only the crime lab standing up and cheering as Horatio turned around and gave them a final wave.

"Go, H!"

"Give 'em hell!"

His red hair blew sideways in the jet's wash. One of the uniformed flight crew slid his sunglasses off. "Sorry Lieutenant" he yelled over the noise. Can't wear these."

"Why don't you watch them for me, Son? I'll need them when I get back."

Helmet and breathing apparatus in place, Horatio climbed up the ladder and into the seat while being strapped in and hooked up to the oxygen.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant" a familiar voice yelled over the radio. "I'm gonna be your pilot for the duration of this flight."

"Widowmaker. Nice to finally meet you in person."

"I don't see Puke Boy out there. Couldn't make it?"

"He wasn't feeling well this morning."

"Too bad. I was starting to like him. What say we take a little tour of the Atlantic? Give the crew the thumbs up if you're ready."

Horatio turned toward the crew and gave the thumbs-up as Widowmaker instructed. Tyler proudly snapped his picture.

"Well, Lieutenant? Ready to go flying?"

"I'm ready, Widowmaker."

The flight crew ducked and dropped the flag as the engines crescendoed to a deafening scream. Within seconds, the silver F14 shot down the runway and disappeared as Widowmaker executed a steep combat takeoff.

Horatio felt himself being slammed back against the seat as the world seemed to fly past him and then disappear in a second. He tried to raise his arms, but the G-force prevented him from doing so.

"I just have one rule, Lieutenant. No puking in my plane, okay?" Widowmaker said with a smile in his voice. "I'll take it easy on you."

Horatio smiled to himself. "No, Widowmaker. I'd rather see what this thing can do."

The jaded fighter pilot sounded excited. "You mean it?"

"I mean it. I've always wanted to ride in one of these things."

"Well, okay then!" Widowmaker let out an adrenaline-induced howl as he pulled back on the accelerator.

Horatio's team stood up expectantly as the jet came in for a landing. As the silver Tomcat pulled to a final stop, two members of the flight crew pulled the tired, quaking passenger out of the rear seat and helped him with his helmet. His team stood up and cheered as he gave one last thumbs-up, tired, but smiling.

Two members of the flight crew took him by each arm and guided him to the bleachers. With smiles the lab stood up and walked toward him. His face was a dark red and he was panting from the G force pressure on his ribcage, but he grinned ear to ear between breaths.

"Horatio! You look like you had fun" Natalia observed.

Delko patted him on the shoulder. "H! How's it feel?"

"It felt great" he said between pants.

Satisfied that Horatio was able to function on his own, they sat him down on the front bleacher. One of them handed back his sunglasses, which he slipped on immediately. As everyone sat around him, he quickly glanced up as Tyler snapped pictures.

"You didn't get sick, did you?" Ryan wanted to know.

Still breathing, Horatio turned to them. "There were some bags on the seat. Made it just in time." He then glanced down at himself. "I'm sure the Navy would like their flight gear back now."

Horatio waved at the silver F-14 as it taxied away.


	6. The Accidental Hero

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: I want to let you know how much I appreciate all of your kind comments and reviews. I'm still determined to get the rest of this out by U.S. Memorial Day**

**Special thanks to Shining Zephyr for letting me use a quote from her Shining Stetler story "Bathroom." You can check out more Shining Stetler Stories in Shiny's profile. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 6-The Accidental Hero<strong>

Rick Stetler's mood didn't match the warm, sunny Tuesday morning as he dragged himself onto the elevator, still tired, sore, trembling and nauseous from the near-death experience he'd had over the skies of Miami only a few days ago.

That moment in the limelight seemed but a distant memory now. It hadn't escaped his attention that the respect and glory he had so hoped for was largely absent. In fact, it seemed like the Miami-Dade Police Department remembered him not for taking the legendary flight in the F14 Tomcat, but for throwing up on Erica Sykes. He also suspected that the cockpit recording had to have made its rounds because he had overheard Frank Tripp laughing to Delko about how he "hadn't heard Stetler scream like that since the time he ran into the ladies' room and scared the hell out of Valera."

Despite the fact that Memorial Day was only yesterday, the frustrated and disillusioned IAB agent buried himself in his work, ready to snap his pen in two with one hand, when he heard a firm knock on his open door. He looked up rather sullenly.

Tyler stood behind Harm and Mac, motioning into Rick's office. The two distinguished Navy lawyers were smartly in uniform and looked like they were ready to present a case. Rick immediately softened his expression. "Come on in" he said dryly.

Harm and Mac approached his desk. "Sergeant Stetler. Colonel MacKenzie and I were just about to head back to Washington, but we wanted to say goodbye and to leave you something" Harm said.

Rick huffed. "What?"

Mac smiled as she handed Harm a brown package from which he produced a handsome oak plaque with a picture. He placed it proudly in Rick's hands. Rick looked at it curiously.

"Sergeant, by doing that 5G climb in the F14, I bet you didn't know, but you became an honorary member of the 5G Society. That's a special club for fighter pilots who complete the climb successfully." Harm pointed to the picture on one side. "And if you look here, Tyler got your picture as you were giving the thumbs-up to the flight crew. We're having another one made for Dover Air Force Base. Not too many Miami police officers have received this award."

Rick lost all expression as he studied his picture next to the plaque. He then looked reproachfully at the officers. "I threw up all over a reporter on network TV."

Mac suppressed a chuckle. "That was another thing we wanted to talk to you about. Emmie saved a copy of Tyler's footage—"

He slowly, painfully stood up, his eyes blazing at Tyler. "I distinctly told her to turn all of that over to me!"

Mac then leaned toward him, looking straight into his eyes. "She did. After she kept a copy on the video camera's memory. Anyway, the video somehow made it onto YouTube over the weekend."

His eyes widened in horror. "WHAT?"

Harm put up his hand. "Wait. She emailed a link to one of her old Quantico friends, who sent it on to some deployed sailors. They loved it! You see, most of us hate reporters. In fact, we have a colleague stationed on the USS Nassau out in the Persian Gulf, and he says your video was the most watched video on the ship's internet café over the weekend. I guess you didn't know it, but you're a bit of a folk hero with our troops. Oh, and then there's the emails."

"What emails?"

"Mac? Would you like to read the one we received from the Admiral stationed at the Baghdad headquarters?"

Mac produced a page from her briefcase. "His words, not mine. 'Kudos to Sergeant Stetler for giving that tart what she deserved. I'd like to fly him out to Baghdad personally if he promises to puke all over every one of these prissy, spineless news correspondents I have to deal with.' I cleaned up the language a little. And then there's this one. It's from a female ensign stationed in Italy who wants to know if you're single."

Rick never changed his expression. "The chief, the mayor, and everybody else saw what happened out there. Now I'm known as 'that guy who threw up all over a reporter.'"

"Admiral Chegwidden made a few phone calls to the mayor's office and the county commissioner. You have nothing to worry about" Mac assured him. "Enjoy your hero status while it lasts, because everybody will forget after a while. And Sergeant? Don't worry. Widowmaker's a little crazy, but he's one of the best pilots in the Navy. If he didn't think you could handle the 5G climb, he wouldn't have taken you there. He knew you had it in you."

Rick sniffed. "He didn't give me much choice."

Harm shrugged. "You're a sergeant. You should know that sometimes you can't give people a choice."

Rick looked at the plaque and admired his picture. "Thanks."

"They'll eventually forget, but they'll see that picture. I hope that's the part you remember, too. Oh, and there's one more thing."

Rick looked up at Harm and Mac as they turned to leave.

Harm raised his eyebrows at him. "Next time, let Lieutenant Caine take the flight. I understand it was his in the first place. That way you could have watched him throw up on Erica Sykes instead. Well, we have to catch our ride back, so you take care."

Tyler was just about to leave when Rick's eyes blazed at him. "Tyler, get in here!" he barked.

Tyler breathed deeply. "Something wrong, Rick?"

"What the hell was on that video that got sent out?"

The AV expert leaned toward his computer. "I'll bring it up for you. Want to see it?"

"No! Just tell me!"

He shrugged. "Just you barfing on Erica Sykes. That's it."

Rick lowered his head at him and glared. "You and Miss Stockburne are not off the hook. Both of you wait for me in the computer lab downstairs. Tell her I want to see every piece of equipment and every email file."

"Horatio gave Emmie the day off so she could see off the flight crew. It's just me today." He looked at the steamed IAB agent cautiously. "You're not gonna drop the video camera again, are you?"

"Get the hell out of my office!"

"So he thinks he's the only one whoever won the 5G award? He doesn't know about Lieutenant Caine?" Harm whispered as they walked down the blue hallway.

The brown-haired JAG officer smiled back quietly. "I said _not too many_."


	7. A Meeting of Warriors

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: This is the last chapter of this work! Again, I want to thank you for all of your kind comments and reviews. Happy Memorial Day to those who observe it!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7-A Meeting of Warriors<strong>

"Yep, he's in his office" Emmie nearly whispered. Just a second, Sir." She put up one finger to the Lieutenant as she tapped on her boss's open door.

Horatio looked up from his latest case file. "Miss Stockburne. I thought you were at Homestead Air Base seeing off the flight crew. What are you doing here?"

"Actually, Sir, one of them wanted to speak with you."

He nodded. "Have them come in."

Emmie walked in, escorting Lieutenant Marshall. He strode in wearing his dark blue Navy flight suit, also ready to travel. "My boss originally should've been there Saturday."

Horatio stood up behind his desk. "Well. Widowmaker. Great to see you again. Are you on your way back?"

The burly pilot walked forward and grasped Horatio's hand in his vise-like grip. He raised one eyebrow. "Lieutenant Caine. Likewise. Emmie can't say enough about you. And hey, I wouldn't be too hard on Sergeant Stetler. He actually handled it better than some of the guys I took up."

Horatio held his fingers together thoughtfully. "So what brings you here this morning?"

Widowmaker raised one eyebrow thoughtfully. "Well, Harm and Mac told me what happened." He nodded at the computer tech. "I asked her to bring me here to say goodbye."

"He didn't ask to say goodbye to Rick."

The two Lieutenants stood on opposite sides of the desk and looked into each other's eyes. The seasoned police officer studied the seasoned fighter pilot. Both were battle-hardened warriors who cared about the ones under their charge. Neither one of them said a word. Emmie just stood back and averted her eyes. She understood what was going on between them.

Finally Widowmaker nodded in approval and reached into the chest pocket of his blue flight suit. "Hey, I hope this works. Emmie says you like sunglasses." He pulled out a pair of silver aviator sunglasses and handed them to Horatio. "Regulation. Cost five hundred dollars. All the best pilots have them. You won't find these in a Sunglass Hut."

Horatio looked at Widowmaker as he took the silver sunglasses and opened the earpieces. "Thank you, Lieutenant. It just so happens I broke a pair at the air show Saturday. I stood up with the rest of the department when Rick had his little incident with Miss Sykes."

The pilot chuckled. "Oh yeah. The reporter. Hey, I wouldn't be too hard on the sergeant. He really didn't do that badly. I never took anyone up who didn't lose it when they found out what it was really like to go Mach 1 straight up in the air. If you're cursing and screaming, at least I know you're alive back there. When I didn't hear you freaking out I got a little worried. You were having a great time, weren't you?"

He smiled at his new shades. "I did. But the cursing and screaming. Not that different from being a police officer, is it?"

"No, I suppose not. Well, I gotta go fly back to DC. Had to stop in and say goodbye. And if I make it back this way, I'll have Emmie here talk to you. If the Brass lets me, I'll take you up again. I mean that. Take care of yourself, Lieutenant Caine." Widowmaker leaned forward and shook Horatio's hand with another vise-like grip.

"I look forward to it" Horatio said with a smile. "Have a safe trip back, Lieutenant."

"Likewise."

Emmie stepped forward. "Widowmaker, I'll be right there. Could you wait outside the door while I talk to my boss?"

He raised an eyebrow at her as he strode out. "Yes Ma'am."

Emmie shrugged as she laughed. "We had some chaos in the lab a few minutes ago when I brought him around to meet everybody. All the females noticed him right away. He flirted with Calleigh, and I really thought he and Eric were gonna go head to head. Not sure who would have won that one."

Horatio smiled as he looked toward his doorway. "Miss Stockburne, you're not thinking about running back to the Navy with Widowmaker, are you?"

She sniffed. "No Sir!" Her voice sank to a whisper. "He bragged about having a girlfriend at every Navy base. I don't share."

"Understood."

Her eyes now grew a little distant. "Besides, I haven't forgotten what it's like to love a man in uniform. No Sir, I'm just giving him the fifty-cent tour of Miami, lunch, taking him back to the base, and I'm out of there. Don't worry; I'm not going anywhere. Well, I better get going before some of the female techs come looking for him. Guess I'll see you in the morning, Sir?"

"Will do. See you later, Emmie."

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><p>The noonday sun finally peeked out as Rick Stetler stood out in front of the Miami-Dade Police Department headquarters. He had resumed his high-and-mightiness by now as Horatio also stepped outside.<p>

"Rick" he said cordially.

The sergeant smirked at him. "Horatio. You didn't hear the news, did you?"

"What news?"

"I'm an honorary member of the 5G Society. Already have the plaque up on my wall."

Horatio simply turned toward him and donned his shiny new aviator sunglasses. Rick's jaw dropped. "Where did you get those?"

Horatio's glasses nearly blinded him. "Just remember, Rick. You're not the only one who has friends in high places."


End file.
